Three Days
by 2BBornot2BB
Summary: Fallout from the "Atta Girl/Boy" comments, a three chapter AU ficlette, all B&B. How far will Brennan run? Not a song fic, but heavily inspired by three Dido songs. Part 1 in canon, Part 2 Brennan & alcohol POV, Part 3 Fluffness.
1. Part One: No Surrender

A/N: I put on a CD in the car the other day – _'Life for Rent'_ by Dido - that I hadn't listened to for ages and several of the songs brought Brennan and Booth immediately to mind, and then when I found out that David Boreanaz actually featured in the video of the title track (check it out … mmmm, yummy), it was a done deal … I had to "put pen to paper" straight away.

I've written this three chapter AU ficlette after three songs on the album, this part "No Surrender" is inspired by the song _'White Flag'_; Part Two "Learning to Buy" is inspired by the song _'Life for Rent'_ and Part Three "Don't Leave" comes from the song _'Don't Leave Home'._

A very special thank you to pax mundi, who – as always – is my guiding light and keeps me on the right path. If you haven't already seen them, please have a look at the two great stories he's currently working on; "Boy on the Mall" and "The Principal in the Man" – you have a treat in store!

Hope you enjoy this little word triptych, and if you don't know the songs, try and have a listen – it's a great album.

Cheers, 2BB

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Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my soul, and I even lend that out on occasion, but only if you ask nice. Anything that even looks familiar in this story probably belongs to someone else (except the actual story - that's all mine, Mine, MINE [*maniacal laughter*]!)

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Part One: No Surrender

_I know you think that I shouldn't still love you, or tell you that.  
But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it - where's the sense in that?  
I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder, or return to where we were  
_

The words hung between them.

"I love you."

Forget that he tried to deflect their magnitude with the "Atta girl" comment. Forget that she, hurt and confused by his prevarication, went along with it, even seemed to embrace it with her "Atta boy" comeback. Even a bumpy ride in Caroline's dog of a car couldn't dislodge the lump in each of their throats. Words were stuck there, unable to be let out and aired. There was so much left unsaid, it hurt to hold it in. They went on as if the words hadn't been spoken, but inside Brennan was churning. Booth wished he could take them back and re-say them oh so differently. They were both slightly in shock.

_

* * *

_

I know I left too much mess and destruction to come back again  
And I caused nothing but trouble I understand if you can't talk to me again  
And if you live by the rules of "it's over" then I'm sure that that makes sense

Brennan didn't see Booth until the next day, and when he next put in an appearance at the Jeffersonian he was as bright and breezy as usual. Swiping his card through the security unit, he bounded up onto the forensic platform.

"Bones? Where are you?" Brennan was drinking coffee in the lounge area, her elbows resting on the railing. She could see him on the platform below, bouncing from desk to desk, searching for her with quick glances left and right. He said something to Wendell that left Wendell doubled up with laughter. Next he swung over to Hodgins – she saw Hodgins shrug and shake his head. Booth frowned and gnawed at his thumbnail, looking for all the world like a small boy who knows he's in big trouble. Head down and hands in his pockets he left the platform more subdued than at his entrance, and turned away towards Brennan's office.

"Aren't you going to put him out of his misery and tell him you're up here?" Angela's stage whisper made Brennan jump. It also brought Booth's head up, but Brennan had already stepped back out of his line of sight. He saw Angela there and walked over until he was directly below them.

"Hey, Angela, you seen Bones?" Angela gave him a wide smile of welcome and opened her mouth to tell him to come right up, but a quick glance at Brennan made the words dry up on her lips. Brennan's eyes had widened and she looked like a bunny caught in the headlights of an oncoming SUV. She gave a tiny shake of her head, and Angela took the hint. She leaned onto the railing and sent Booth a huge grin.

"No idea, gorgeous. Want me to tell her you want her?" This last was said tongue-in-cheek, with heavy emphasis on the last three words. For good effect, Angela shot him a lewd wink.

Booth just grinned and shook his head, "Don't you ever give up?"

"Not when something's staring me in the face, G-man." Booth frowned again, raising his hand to her in a distracted farewell. He hesitated, then redirected his steps to Brennan's office again. Angela looked over to the platform where Hodgins had been watching the exchange. He mouthed, "_What's going on?"_ but Angela could only shake her head slowly, puzzlement written in her expression.

Angela spun around to face her friend, a crooked smile on her face. "What was that all about, sweetie? Trouble in Paradise?" She quizzed facetiously, "You usually drop everything when Booth calls." She ignored Brennan's defensive "I do not!" and went on "C'mon, give." She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for Brennan to speak. When it was obvious that Brennan was not going to offer any explanation, Angela went to her and casually placed an arm over her shoulder.

"Everything okay Bren?" There was real concern in Angela's voice now. Brennan was the sort of person that met problems head on – she never usually baulked at going to head to head with Booth on any subject, in fact she seemed to thrive on it.

"Everything's fine, Ange." Her eyes slid away from Angela's penetrating look. "Really, there's nothing wrong."

"Then why are you up here hiding from Booth?" Brennan pulled away from her embrace, moving to place her empty coffee cup on the tray so that there was some distance between them.

"I'm not hiding! I'm just … choosing not to interact with Booth at the moment."

Angela studied her friend consideringly; something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Brennan's eyes were shuttered, almost as if she were hiding something, but that was so out of character that Angela frowned, her relationship radar starting to hum. Weirdness was in the air, she was sure of that. "Have you two had a fight or something?"

Brennan's denial was instant, "No! Nothing like that. I just don't see the need for Booth and me to live parallel lives all the time." Angela was perplexed at this turn of events, but knew Brennan would not appreciate being grilled on the subject just now; she recognised all too well the stubborn expression that had settled on Brennan's features. It would have to wait until Brennan was ready to talk. Angela gave her friend a quick hug and left her to it. Whatever the problem was, she knew that she and Booth would be missing each other; they were so used to – what did Bren say? – 'living parallel lives' now. When Angela got to the top of the stairs, she turned and looked back. Her heart constricted as she watched her friend.

Brennan had moved cautiously back to the hand rail, scanning the forensic platform and the surrounding area. Suddenly she froze – she'd spotted him – and Angela observed the way she followed his progress out of the forensics area with what could only be described as hunger.

_

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_

And when we meet (which I'm sure we will)  
All that was there will be there still  
I'll let it pass and hold my tongue  
And you will think that I've moved on....

"_Bones_. What are you doing here? Were you coming to see me?" Booth's words made her jump. She had an appointment to see Caroline Julian, but the outspoken lawyer was running late. Brennan had decided to grab a coffee while she was waiting, hoping that by remaining in the staff lounge her presence in the Hoover Building wouldn't attract any attention. She'd run into Charlie on her way in, and knew from him that Booth was in the building, but not in his office. She had sought the sanctuary of the lounge, reasonably confident that an accidental meeting with Booth was unlikely, as he mostly preferred to get take out coffee. His appearance beside her now was unexpected, but something that she should have prepared herself for.

Brennan eyed him warily, not really knowing what to expect. His expression was pleasantly bland, a half smile shaping his mouth, but Brennan thought she recognised a hint of sadness cross his face, although she couldn't be sure. Her eyes skittered away from his guiltily. She concentrated on her coffee, playing for time to get her thoughts in order.

"Hey, Booth. Caroline Julian wants to go over my report in the Massachusetts case. She's running late." She paused, awkward in the knowledge that normally she would have sought him out and hung out in his office while she was waiting.

"Oh, right." Booth replied quietly, turning away to add water to some pot noodles he was heating.

"How are you?" She blurted out. _Brilliant conversationalist as usual_, she chided herself, unconsciously chewing the inside of her bottom lip.

"I'm fine, fine. You?" He placed the container in the microwave to nuke it and Brennan watched his hands in fascination as he calmly performed this task.

"Fine."

Booth set the microwave going, and turned to face her. An uncomfortable silence billowed up between them, neither willing to be the first to break it. Casting sideways glances at each other, they tried to ignore the change in their dynamics. The unsettling discomfiture they were feeling was alien to their relationship. Brennan opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. She looked up at Booth, who apparently had had the same thought. They stared at each other open mouthed.

"You two just startin' somethin' or just finishin' somethin'?" Caroline's honeyed tones cut into their reverie, startling both of them into action. Booth busied himself with the microwave, while Brennan drained her mug of over brewed coffee, pulling a face as the bitter dregs registered on her tongue.

"If you two have finished makin' goo goo eyes at each other, I do believe Dr Brennan and I have some quality time scheduled. C'mon cher, I may not be as pretty as Agent Booth, but I'm just as much fun!" Caroline gave them both a pointed look from under her brows, then turned on her heel and headed towards the meeting room.

"I – ah – I'd better get going." Brennan stammered, oddly reluctant to leave.

Booth didn't turn around, but merely half turned his head towards her, saying over his shoulder, "Yeah, sure thing. See you later." He felt her stand there for a long moment, before her footsteps signalled her departure. When he was sure she was long gone, he let his shoulders sag, resting his forehead against the cupboard door. '_This is too hard' _he thought disconsolately.

* * *

_I will go down with this ship  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender  
There will be no white flag above my door  
I'm in love and always will be_

Brennan had given up trying to concentrate at around six, deciding that she may as well pack up and go home. Tentatively she held the back of her hand to her forehead to check her temperature as she'd seen other people do sometimes. Everything within normal parameters there, as far as she could tell, although how anyone could depend on such an inexact method of collecting data, she didn't know. She hesitated, wondering whether she should check her pulse rate … maybe she was coming down with something? She reproached herself silently for her foolishness. She was as healthy as a … whatsimathing, and she knew it.

Citing a publisher's deadline as an excuse, she'd turned down Angela's invitation to join the rest of the team for their usual Friday night drinks, when in reality she hadn't planned to work on her book at all this weekend. She just didn't have the energy to socialise with her peers, as much as she enjoyed their company. Flicking the office light off, she headed out, deciding to take the longer route through the main public foyer to the car park. She didn't examine her motives for this evasive action, merely told herself she needed the exercise the extra distance would supply.

As she entered the foyer from an internal hallway, the combined murmurings of a couple of hundred voices hit her like a wall of sound. Damn, she'd forgotten that the public opening of the new science and technology exhibition was scheduled for this evening. Moms and dads and kids wandered haphazardly around, enjoying a preview of the main event. Out of the cacophony, Brennan heard a familiar voice.

"Bones! Hey, wait up!"

"Booth?" Surprise brought her to an abrupt halt and she turned towards his voice. She met his eyes over the heads of several squealing children. "What are you doing here?" He squeezed his broad form sideways through the midst of a large family to get to her side.

"I brought Parker, he's been on me for about a month to bring him to this thing." Booth pointed towards the southern archway where the excited little boy was trying his best to disengage his hand from that of his mother. Brennan exchanged a stiff smile with Rebecca over the distance that separated them. She swung around to Booth, taken aback by the dull ache she felt at seeing them as a couple.

"Oh, I didn't realise – are you and Rebecca –?"

"What?" Booth followed Brennan's quick glance back at Rebecca, then screwed up his face comically, "No, don't be ridiculous. I picked Parker up from school to bring him here and Rebecca's taking him home." Brennan nodded at his explanation, her face impassive now, but her heart rate taking a few extra moments to settle back down to normal. Booth put his hands in his pockets, "I'm heading over to meet the squint squad at Founding Fathers after I finish up some overdue reports." When Brennan didn't speak, he went on, "What about you?"

She avoided replying, just gave him a noncommittal smile. She didn't understand why she was prevaricating like this. They stood for a few moments longer, not speaking, not looking at each other. The crowd parted around them as if they were one of the static displays. Abruptly Booth moved to stand directly in front of her, his proximity forcing her to look up at him.

"I'm not going to apologise for telling you how I feel." Booth kept his voice level, conscious of how easily they could be overheard. Brennan speared him with her eyes, not having any trouble understanding what he was referring to; it was on her mind as well. Indignation rose instantly to the top of her head.

"_Apologise_? You think I need an _apology_? You think _you need_ to apologise?" She forced out the words through clenched teeth, keeping her voice low as he had. "This is why I didn't want - " She couldn't finish the sentence, deeply hurt that he had misjudged her so completely. How could he think she'd be _offended _by what he'd said? She turned abruptly on her heel and started to walk away, incapable of dealing with the mixture of feelings she was experiencing. Booth put his hand on the crook of her arm, a light touch meant to stall her leaving, but she shrugged it off and powered, head down, towards the exit. He called her name but didn't try to follow. Just as quickly as she'd fired up, she stopped, dropping her head, ashamed at her behaviour. She looked back at him uncertainly. A lone figure in a sea of movement, Booth stood stock still, staring at the ground. He radiated sadness, looking for all the world like he'd just lost his best friend, which of course was what he thought had just happened. Before she had a chance to go back to him, a small blonde bundle of energy rammed into his legs, breaking his reverie.

"Dad, come and have a look at all this cool stuff. There's lights that turn blue when you hold your hand over them, and you can blow down this tube thing and it makes a weird sound, and all these marbles start jumping up and down, and - "

"Whoa, buddy, slow down." He put his hand on his son's curly head, his eyes scanning the crowd for Brennan. He saw her standing by the entrance doors, watching him. She held up a hand in farewell and gave him a little wave, her tentative smile offering an apology. He returned the smile, not able to resist her olive branch. He knew her well enough now to understand her need to distance herself whenever emotions were involved. He saw her stance relax a little. Another quick wave, a wider smile and she was gone.

Parker had watched this exchange with interest. He tugged on the hem of his dad's jacket to get his attention.

"Dr Bones looked sad." He observed.

"Yeah, buddy, I guess she is sad." Booth took his son's hand and led him towards Rebecca, who he'd spotted stationed by elevator doors, searching the sea of faces for her son. She caught sight of them and shook her head in mock desperation.

"Were you mean to her?" Once Parker had decided he needed to know something, he wouldn't let it go.

Booth laughed without humour "No, not really. But maybe I said something that she didn't want to hear."

"I think you should tell Dr Bones you're sorry she's sad."

"Out of the mouths of babes." Booth said under his breath.

"Huh?" Parker didn't understand.

"That's good advice, buddy. C'mon here's your mom."


	2. Part Two: Learning to Buy

A/N: This one's OOC and ever so slightly tongue-in-cheek ;P

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my soul, and I even lend that out on occasion, but only if you ask nice. Anything that even looks familiar in this story probably belongs to someone else (except the actual story - that's all mine, Mine, MINE [*maniacal laughter*]!)

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**FOUR DAYS **

**Part Two: Learning to Buy**

_I haven't ever really found a place that I call home  
I never stick around quite long enough to make it  
I apologize once again I'm not in love  
But it's not as if I mind that your heart ain't exactly breaking_

Brennan sat cross-legged on her soft leather couch, back straight, her laptop propped on her knees. She was attempting to turn the white lie she'd used as an excuse to Angela into the truth by pretending she was working on the next chapter of her book. She managed to fool herself for a while, and actually succeeded to get a few decent paragraphs down. Nothing that took the plot anywhere of course, but very … atmospheric. She shrugged – it all added to the word count. Publishers seemed to like large numbers of words.

She read it out aloud, pleased with the tenor at least and enjoying the sounds the spoken words produced. She rewarded her efforts by pouring another generous glass from the bottle of Australian Grenache blend she'd been keeping for that extra special occasion that had never really cropped up. But she figured that tonight was somewhat of an occasion. She tasted the wine, enjoying its vibrant berry character. She indulged in a second sip, savouring quince and spice.

Brennan put the computer to one side and let her eyes wander around her apartment. The furniture and fittings were stylishly done and she considered the interior designer's fee had been money well spent. This was her third apartment in the last five years, and so far she thought possibly the closest to her ideal space. It was roomy and uncluttered, a place where she could work as well as relax.

She got to her feet and paced restlessly about. The room, like her office at the Jeffersonian, was dotted with artefacts and relics that she'd collected on her travels to some of the world's most remote places. She was justifiably proud of the work she had done in her career, content to have been acknowledged in several arenas by her peers, but equally satisfied to remain nameless for her work in less officially ratified endeavours. Her bookshelves, like her office at the Jeffersonian, were lined with anthropological texts and scientific journals; the only works of fiction were those she kept here - her own novels, and a well thumbed copy of _"To Kill a Mockingbird" _that Booth had given her. She'd never considered the blend to be anything other than practical and convenient; she didn't realise how little of her private self was on display.

She wasn't a cold person, or demonstrative; the protective shield she carried with her always left other people feeling excluded from knowing her properly, and it seemed to be often taken in a negative way. She'd always seemed to be able to have her physical needs fulfilled, but had never placed much importance on building relationships. She mostly only ventured into the dating arena when she felt it wouldn't impinge on her real passion, forensic anthropology. But lately she was feeling as if she was missing out somehow: she wanted to feel, she wanted to be more like Angela, hell, she would even be prepared to be 'heartbroken' (not that she acknowledged that was logically possible) if it would help her to experience life more fully. She sipped her wine absently, enjoying the warmth it generated. There was nothing here that she wouldn't bat an eyelid at packing up and putting in storage, nothing to keep her grounded to this place. Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe a new place would satisfy the unidentifiable urge that was making her so edgy and uncomfortable. The idea of moving on brought her thoughts immediately back to Booth, of how his presence in her life had grown over these past few years, of what it might be like if he wasn't there.

She'd managed to avoid a proper conversation with Booth for three days. Two days since their accidental meeting at the Hoover Building. One day since he'd confronted her in the Jeffersonian's public foyer. Was it only three days since he'd said – that – those things he'd said? Brennan sighed, deciding to face the fear. Since he'd said he'd loved her … in a professional, 'atta girl kind of way'. She was having difficulty processing that information logically, which was why she was in such turmoil now and why she'd been avoiding Booth.

She slumped down onto the couch again, refilling her glass from the bottle on the occasional table. Of course there were precedents, men had told her they loved her before, she was familiar – if uncomfortable - with that. It was usually insincere. But this was Booth. _Booth_. Ignoring his obvious prevarication, had he been serious? Surely he had; his whole demeanour had spoken of sincerity, even if his flippant coda undermined the intent of his words. She couldn't interpret his intent sufficiently to work out how she felt about the whole situation. She'd been twisting her mind into a circular helix on the subject for days, but still couldn't break the information down into rational baseline parameters from which she could plausibly extrapolate an answer that satisfied her.

She pondered the purplish crimson wine in her glass, taking another deep swallow, letting its spicy sweetness warm her. _Booth_. She sighed and let her head fall back on the bolster she'd propped behind her shoulders. She let her mind wander, distracting herself by contemplating a way of mathematically constructing a helix by plotting a complex valued exponential function taking imaginary arguments, such as those used in Euler's Formula which, if she remembered correctly, demonstrated the deep relationship between the trigonometric functions and the complex exponential function. Deep relationship. Complex functions. _Booth_. She sighed more deeply, forcing the air from her lungs, and idly experimented extending her tongue until the movement of her lips produced a noise. She wondered if Booth knew that in the terminology of phonetics, the sound could be described as an unvoiced linguolabial trill, also known to schoolchildren the world over as a raspberry. She tried the words out loud, "Linguolabial trill", having a bit of trouble enunciating the third syllable of the first word and the whole of the second word. After one or two unsuccessful attempts to correctly say the phrase, she concluded it sounded rude when it was said aloud and gave up.

She sat up abruptly, draining her wine and setting the glass on the table. What was she doing sitting back meekly when faced with a problem? She was a scientist, after all – a forensic anthropologist, by golly, and she would use her genius intellect to solve this conundrum in the way she knew best, by looking at the facts, referring back to known controls, and making intuitive leaps based on her more recently acquired – albeit sketchy - knowledge of the human psyche. _'By golly'? _Where had that come from - was that something Booth said? She'd never had a Golly. She'd had a doll once. She wondered what had happened to it?

Summoning all her considerable reasoning skills, she refilled her glass and resettled the computer on her lap. She decided to conduct a comparative study of her former lovers using standard criteria to expedite the evaluation. She typed several headings across the page; Name, Physical Attractiveness, Compatability, Pros, Cons, Special Circumstances. '_I really should use a control subject_.' She tapped her chin with her left proximal interphalangeal joint, mulling over the problem until a solution presented itself, '_Booth!_' She grinned at how clever she was and drained the dregs of her wine. The bottle was disappointingly empty when she went to refuel, which called for a quick trip to her wine cabinet.

Congratulating herself on her foresight in purchasing a dozen of the Grenaches when she'd had the opportunity, she chose another bottle of the same, studying the label as she went through to the kitchen to find the corkscrew. "_'The Holy Trinity' is modelled on the Rhone style blend of Grenache, Shiraz and Mourvedre._" A frown appeared between her brows "_Did the wine have some sort of religious significance?_" she wondered. Maybe she'd been inadvertently drinking Eucharist wine; it _had_ been a bit of a bargain. She made a mental note to check with Booth next time she saw him. Perhaps she should have something to eat - her head was feeling a tad fuzzy. She ferreted through her pantry, finally deciding on some Japanese _senbei_ crackers that she found tucked towards the back, bought for a dinner party that she'd never gotten around to having.

Carrying her plunder back to the couch, she concentrated on pouring another glass of red and took pleasure in the crunchy stickiness and exotic flavours of the _senbei_. She brushed some stray crumbs from her singlet top, and resolutely turned her mind back to the task at hand. Perhaps if she could work out what her expectations had been in other relationships, then she would know how she felt about what Booth had – that – those things he'd said. The wine slid down her throat like liquid silk, quenching the unexpected dryness in her mouth.

On the left hand side of the screen she listed out several names – Jason Defry and Mark Gaffney, Michael Stires, Pete Hamilton, David Simmons and finally Tim Sullivan. She absently added Will Hastings' name at the end, then furiously backspaced with a shudder. What was she thinking – murderers were indisputably outside the parameters of this study!

She took a long draught from the wineglass and straightened her shoulders, raising her chin at the challenge her undertaking presented.

Jason Defry and Mark Gaffney. Hmmm. The two for the price of one offer. Mark undoubtedly enjoyed incredible muscle tone and mass which as a diver was enhanced by the physical demands of his chosen career, and his stamina was astounding. Sexually they were very compatible but there it ended. There was no intellectual stimulation whatsoever. In fact she had preferred it when he didn't speak. The botanist, Jason, on the other hand was a stimulating companion, a clever conversationalist who was quite knowledgeable in many areas. It was a great shame that he held no appeal for her sexually. Not a spark. Nonetheless Brennan remembered the sting of rejection when they both severed their relationship with her. In retrospect, not such a great idea, dating two incomplete men. Apparently two halves do not always make a whole, although she had to admit it had been a novel experience while it lasted. Mental note to self, consider only fully grown men in the future.

Michael Stires. Even typing the name gave her pause. Conversely, she recalled with pleasure the student/mentor relationship they'd initially enjoyed; he'd taught her far more than just forensics. Intellectually and physically stimulating, yet – as it turned out – untrustworthy, insincere and egomaniacal. On the plus side, he had never told her outright that he loved her so at least she couldn't accuse him of hypocrisy. But she found his "choice between reality and perception" unworthy of a person of veracity. She despondently acknowledged her serious lapse in judgment when it came to Professor Michael Stires. In the end even though their relationship was purely recreational, that had soured when he showed his true colours on the stand. Mental note to self, choose a partner with integrity, honesty and a passion for justice and truth. Maybe one who had superpowers, or was at the very least highly proficient in hand-to-hand combat and the art of tactical warfare. The thought made her smile and reflect upon the qualities of the mythical metal "feminum" when fashioned into bullet-deflecting bracelets. She loved that Wonderwoman costume, remembering Booth's face the night he first saw her wearing it. A very unscientific giggle escaped her, and she silenced it with a mouthful of wine.

Pete Hamilton. Another mistake. Who knew he would be so possessive? He had said he loved her; what he really had loved was her body. The whole relationship had been founded on their sexual compatibility. Quite frankly she had thought she was comfortable with that concept, but couldn't forgive him his overweening need to control her – that was another matter. His childish attempts to undermine her devotion to her work had been absurd. He had never attempted to understand her world, or try to assimilate into any part of it. His choice of career – marketing – should have given her fair warning, but she'd been blinded by his sexual energy. As much as she was stimulated by their energetic encounters, she found his juvenile response to any attempted rebuttal of his reasoning (that is, pouting silence) excessively draining. Mental note to self, choose a partner who respects my work and whose work I in turn can respect. And who relishes the benefits of a stimulating exchange of views.

David Simmons. Her first sortie into online dating. His photo really hadn't done him justice; he was lithe and exceptionally fit for someone with such a sedentary job. Everything had proceeded well; he'd respected her work, had seemed content to be with her on her terms, physically they were an excellent match, however she still found the whole cult thing disturbing. He seemed so normal until that all came out into the open. Moreover he could never come to terms with her fondness for firearms. Mental note to self, choose partner who respects my right to my own beliefs, even if they don't agree, or hold different views. And who likes guns.

Sully. Ahh, Sully. That was a close one. Sensitive, intelligent, athletic, funny, strong, endowed with … many good points. For someone who didn't believe in romantic love, she'd known that when Sully had said he'd loved her, he'd meant it. She had thought long and hard about whether to go head off towards the horizon with him on his boat. Logic had told her she should go, Angela had told her to go (_ad infinitum!_), even Booth had told her to go, but still she'd stayed. Gordon Gordon Wyatt had said she'd stayed because she couldn't live a purposeless life. That was certainly a rational explanation for her decision and not without truth, but it wasn't the real reason. That that stayed locked inside her. But Sully, for all his appeal, didn't really know what he wanted out of life. The tangential nature of his ideas might have been stimulating, had she not found his lack of direction and the transience of his plans unappealing. He was a good agent, no doubt he would be a good short order cook or tour operator or whatever it was he was doing these days, but the way he swapped and changed his goals had been an anathema to her. Mental note to self, choose partner who was focussed and goal orientated, who was committed to his chosen vocation, who was steadfast, unfaltering and dedicated to results. Someone who like to eat burgers, not think about ways to flip them.

She sat back, flexing the cramps out of her fingers and scrubbing her face with both hands to try and clear her head. She began to read through what she had written, cutting and pasting her conclusions into one final summary of her needs. What she read left her confused and bewildered. She re-read her conclusions and reassessed the efficacy of her methods.

Fully grown man – _Booth_. A partner with integrity, honesty and a passion for justice and truth - _Booth_. Someone who respects my work and whose work I in turn can respect – _Booth_. A man who respects my right to my own beliefs, even if he doesn't agree, or holds different views - _Booth_. Focussed and goal orientated, committed to his chosen vocation, who was steadfast, unfaltering and dedicated to results - _Booth_. Booth was now apparently the yardstick she measured other men against.

She raised her glass to her mouth, then set it down on the table untouched. She needed a clear head now. Embracing sobriety, she considered this astonishing revelation. She couldn't help but acknowledge Booth's importance in her life, both professionally and personally. She acknowledged her need and desire for a connection with someone, maybe even something more enduring – was this the connection she needed to make? She didn't waste any time considering Booth's physical attractiveness – that was not in question. She had realised a very long time ago that she was acutely attracted to him, but had kept those feelings at arm's length as she had placed a higher value on their working partnership. She doubted whether sexual compatibility would be an issue … and, besides, it would be exhilarating to test her theory.

She turned off the laptop and put it to one side, lying back on the couch. She yawned and stretched, settling more comfortably into the plush upholstery. A secretive smile danced around her lips as she contemplated the possibility of a future with Booth in every part of her life …

* * *

The sound of someone pounding on her front door eventually roused Brennan from the deep sleep that she had fallen into. Her dream merged into reality as Booth's voice penetrated her consciousness.

"Bones, I know you're in there. C'mon – its freezing out here – let me in."

She stumbled towards the hall, head still muzzy from too much wine and not enough sleep. "Booth?" Unlocking the deadlock she peered out at him myopically, "What are you doing here? Is something wrong? What time is it?"

"It's late." He said bleakly, then continued in a more diffident tone, unsure of his welcome. "Can I come in? I want to talk to you. I don't want to keep going on like this." He braced himself for an argument, but was shocked into silence when her beautiful face split into a smile. She opened the door wider and Booth leaned in towards her, his eyes narrowing at her appearance.

"Sheesh, Bones, you look like crap – what have you been up to?"

She looked at him unwaveringly, coming to a rapid and inevitable decision. She felt as if someone had switched on a light inside her head. "Buying into my life, Booth. Are you coming in?"

_While my heart is a shield and I won't let it down  
While I am so afraid to fail so I won't even try  
Well how can I say I'm alive_

_It's just a thought, only a thought_

_But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy  
Well I deserve nothing more than I get  
Cos nothing I have is truly mine_


	3. Part Three: Don't Leave

A/N Ahh, the delicious fun of being able to make your characters do anything you want them to … yee har!

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my soul, and I even lend that out on occasion, but only if you ask nice. Anything that even looks familiar in this story probably belongs to someone else (except the actual story - that's all mine, Mine, MINE [*maniacal laughter*]!)

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* * *

****Part Three: Don't Leave **

_Oh how quiet, quiet the world can be  
When it's just you and little me  
Everything is clear and everything is new  
So you won't be leaving will you?_

_Oh don't leave home, oh don't leave home_

_If you're cold I'll keep you warm  
If you're low just hold on  
Cause I will be your safety  
Oh don't leave home_

Feeble sunlight seeped across his face and he woke gradually, almost reluctantly, a mindless smile curling his lips. Thick curtains framing the windows helped muffle any traffic noise and the only sound he could hear was the distant hum of some appliance, a refrigerator maybe. He couldn't find his watch or see a clock – he assumed it was fairly early; there were very few street noises and the morning light was weak and still allied to the night.

The morning was cool but for a moment he was lulled by the sun's delicate warmth; secure in his demi-sleep. Stretching like a giant cat, sinews popping, he let languor overtake him, until he abruptly became aware of where he was, who he was with. He froze mid-stretch and his heart leapt and plummeted almost simultaneously. He shot an apprehensive sideways glance at his partner, almost fearful of what he might discover.

Brennan was curled on her side, away from him. He propped himself up on one arm and tried to look at her face, searching for any hint of turbulent thoughts, regrets, doubts that might be disturbing her sleep. He couldn't see her well enough to read any signs, only one rounded cheek and those impossibly long, impossibly thick lashes. Her hair was spread riotously over the pillow, in total disarray, and Booth couldn't help grinning at the memory of the passion they'd shared that helped get it that way. She had her arms twined together in front of her chest as if in some weird yoga position, the sheet pulled up snugly underneath them. On tenterhooks, Booth tried vainly to analyse her body language, searching for any tiny indicator that might give him a hint of what her reaction would be to waking up with him in her bed. Then she sighed, and he held his breath, and her sigh ended on a whimper. He scooted closer to her, concerned, but before he could reassure her with his touch she rolled over, whispered "Booth" and curled into him like a kitten. She was still fast asleep. He pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts and tucked it gently around her.

Booth settled himself back on the bed, Brennan coiled around his arm and chest. He felt his whole face start to split with a smile and he lay there beaming at the ceiling like a fool. He thought his heart might burst with happiness. He thought his head might burst with his new knowledge of her. He curled his arm a little more tightly around her shoulders and she burrowed her face into his neck, seeking the warmth he offered. Deep, restful sleep claimed him.

He was home in her arms and he didn't ever want to leave.

* * *

_Like a ghost don't need a key  
Your best friend I've come to be  
Please don't think of getting up for me  
You don't even need to speak  
When I've been here for just one day  
You'll already miss me if I go away  
So close the blinds and shut the door  
You won't need other friends anymore_

_Oh don't leave home, oh don't leave home_

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring into her disconcerting blue gaze. She'd inched herself up the bed so that they were level, and was studying him unblinkingly. The impassive stare she'd mastered years ago was so achingly familiar yet, even after all this time, still unreadable. Her shield was in place, and Booth prepared his heart for a rebuff. He was drowning in her eyes – cliché or not – and he opened his mouth to fill the void with words, even though the right words hadn't yet formed themselves in his brain.

She placed a finger gently on his lips and leaned into him, taking possession of his mouth with hers. The kiss was deep and lingering, yet inexplicably sad. When he drew back she had tears in her eyes. She reached for him again and this time their lovemaking was fierce and desperate and punishing. He felt a goodbye in her touch and didn't allow his thoughts to interact with his feelings, for fear his heart would truly break.

She left his arms hastily when the act was over. They still hadn't spoken coherently and he felt a momentous sadness. He'd thought she shared the feeling of rightness in their passion. She'd certainly made love to him like there was no tomorrow. Made love, not had sex.

He stared at the tousled sheets where just minutes ago she'd been; they were already rapidly losing the heat from her body. Bitterly he came to the conclusion that he'd been justified in holding off expressing his feelings all along, waiting till the time was right; apparently his reasons for waiting were way off the mark. Instead of protecting her, gentling her, trying to ease her into her own mind and heart, it was palpably clear to him now that there never would have been a right time. What he's seen as a lifelong passion, a merging of two into one, had been a chimera, a mirage - a fabrication of his mind that she'd probably dismiss with a laugh in her logical rational fashion.

He was a fool. He thought he was expert at interpreting people and their motives, now he was filled with self-doubt. Maybe he had a little talent at it except in one vitally important area; Brennan. She remained an enigma to him.

He continued to silently berate himself, bitterly disappointed that the chance he'd taken on their happiness had failed so disastrously. His expressive face reflected his inner chaos; so wrapped up was he in self-recriminations he didn't hear her come back into the bedroom. She stood watching him for a few seconds.

The heavy curtains swished closed and he jerked his head around at the noise, searching her out in the muted light. She was there, wrapped in something blue and diaphanous that made him think of misty rain. Following on from his thoughts, the look he gave her was unconsciously hostile, and she faltered a moment before coming closer and sitting on the side of the bed.

"Here – drink this." She held out a cup of steaming coffee, "I didn't realise you'd be so grumpy without a coffee." He took it from her wordlessly, confusion twisting his features. For all her apparent composure, she wouldn't meet his eyes – she seemed almost timid. All his insecurities crowded around his brain, each one insistently seeking a hearing. He steeled himself for the 'biological imperative' spiel that he'd come to despise. He was certain she cared for him, but cared how? Enough to work at this, to take it further than one mind blowing night?

But then Booth caught the fluttering look she gave him from beneath her lashes, recognised the tentative smile curling her lips – the same one he'd seen across the diner table a hundred times or that they'd shared at those other private times when she would hear him out on a subject she wasn't sure about. It was a smile that she reserved for him alone. A rush of colour fled up her neck and into her face. _Brennan … blushing? _Suddenly the full force of her gaze met his, and he was stunned by the intensity of it. Tears were misting her beautiful eyes and he scrambled to put down his coffee and take her into his arms again.

"Oh baby, what's wrong?" He had to lean close to hear, the words were spoken so softly. This was a different Brennan than he was used to – where was his warrior woman, his rational squint, his Bones?

"Will you stay with me today?" she asked diffidently. The throaty timbre of her voice grew hoarse on the question. Booth could only look at her blankly, several emotions fighting for dominance on his features; bewilderment won. She was asking him to stay, not leave, but he still had a multitude of unanswered questions.

"Of course I will – where did you think I'd be going?" He settled his arms around her shoulders more securely, hoping the closeness would help her feel safe enough to continue. The question seemed irrational to him; he hadn't planned on leaving her side any time soon or ever, if he had his way. But he was still wary. He sensed there was more to come and he wondered whether he could handle it.

Brennan dropped her eyes again, "I thought perhaps you couldn't wait to leave. That last night might have just satisfied your curiosity and that would be the end of it." She laughed humourlessly, dropping her voice even more, "You'd realise by now that I wasn't worth the effort after all." At her words Booth gathered her to him, almost crushing her in his effort to quell her concerns.

"Bones, you are worth so much more than that – where do you get these ideas from? Y'know, sometimes I feel like shaking you until some actual sense rattles out of that brilliant brain of yours. I would never do anything to hurt you - you're my best friend, my Bones." She flicked him a smile, she knew at least that was true. He'd proved it to her over and over again in so many ways.

"You're my best friend too, Booth." She sniffed and impatiently wiped away a single tear that was meandering down her cheek.

"Well, then. Was it … I mean – last night was I, um - good for you?" This time Brennan couldn't help the throaty chuckle that bubbled up at his discomfiture at speaking about sex, particularly after what they'd just recently shared.

"Your performance was more than adequate." He missed the teasing look she concealed almost immediately.

His reaction was instantaneous and predictable, "_Adequate_?" She was in squint mode and he imagined her mentally checking some creepy score card of sexual adequacy.

"I said _more_ than adequate!" She chortled as she said it, lightly digging him in the ribs, "Last night exceeded my expectations and experience, Booth. You are a superlative lover." She laughed openly at him and Booth loved to hear her laugh like that; loved that he made her laugh like that.

"Last night," he swallowed, "Baby, last night was the answer to every hope and dream I've ever had." He put his finger under her chin and lifted her face up until he could look into her eyes. Brennan ran her finger down his chest, sending a shiver of desire through him.

"Don't call me baby." The unexpectedness of her response made him laugh as well. She smiled with him for a moment and then his expression became solemn. He brought his face close to hers, his breath fanning her lips.

"Temperance Brennan, I've been in love with you from the moment I met you. I will never hurt you. I will never leave you. I will always love you. Trust me, please." Booth's eyes pleaded with her to follow her heart.

"I have never trusted anyone as much as I trust you, Booth." His heart swelled with hope at her words. "I've trusted you with my life for so long now, I don't how _not_ to trust you." She put her head to one side and looked at him searchingly, "What do you want from me, Booth?

His answer was immediate and directly to the point, "I want you to love me."

Brennan reached for him, a wicked glint in her eye, "I thought you might be too tired to go again, but I'm ready if you are." Booth happily kissed her, but then pushed back on her shoulders so that he could see her face. "Very funny, Bones. But I didn't mean _make_ love. Your real actual love. That's what I want."

Brennan pressed her lips together, searching for the right answer. When she responded, "I don't know what that means." Booth swore under his breath and made to get up, but she put her hand on his arm to restrain him.

"Booth, don't be angry with me. I'm not being fatuous, I really don't think I know what that means in the sense that _you_ mean. I want to be able to say that I love you, but I'm not sure of the definition or parameters."

"Jeez, Bones, why do you have to analyse everything? Head and heart – haven't you learned that yet?" Although the heat of his anger had dissipated almost as soon as it had flared, disappointment at Brennan's response was wedged in his chest.

"Well," Brennan moved in close to him and her arm snaked around his neck, "I'm a scientist, I need to analyse things the way you need to … be the man and fix things." Booth smiled ruefully at that, and she continued, "I know I like to be with you and if you're not close by I don't feel … right, I feel off balance. We really do complement each other. I know that I respect you together with your beliefs, even if I don't always agree or understand the basis for those beliefs; if something is important to you I want to understand it. I know that I never want to be responsible for your pain, I can't bear to see you in pain. I know you drive me crazy -"

"Pffft - that sure goes both ways!" Booth snorted.

"Hey!" Brennan gave him a light slap and then settled back against his chest, " – and that I can't stay angry with you. I know the way I feel when you touch me, like I've got a fever that I don't want to cure. I know you make me a better person. I know I want you to be happy and that you make me happy. I know you are a good man, you have principles and ethics that I admire. I value your opinion and I depend on your advice. You are trustworthy and strong and you protect me – keep me safe - even though I can look after myself and you know that. I know that you will never fail me."

"You put a lot of thought into the subject recently, Bones?" He tenderly pushed her hair from her forehead.

"Mmm hmm, you could say that."

"And are you still going to tell me you don't know what love is?"

"What do you mean?"

"Temperance, you've just told me everything I needed to hear. Whether you're ready to say the words or not, I don't need to hear them. Not now that I know what's in your heart." She opened her mouth to argue about his definition of 'heart', but this time Booth placed his finger on her lips to silence her. "Yes, I mean _heart_, Bones."

For a few moments they smiled into each other's eyes and what he saw reflected there made Seeley Joseph Booth shout with happiness.

He pulled her back down onto the bed, not letting go of her for a moment. The room resounded with their laughter and quiet chatter and finally the sound of the laws of physics breaking, of two becoming one.

She was home in his arms and she didn't ever want to leave.

__

I arrived when you were weak  
I'll make you weaker, like a child  
Now all your love you give to me  
When your heart is all I need

Oh don't leave home, oh don't leave home

_If you're cold I'll keep you warm  
If you're low just hold on  
Cause I will be your safety  
Oh don't leave home_

* * *

Awww … that was fun to write - hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading (and it's lovely to see so many of you stopping by - :D)- I'd really appreciate your comments if you've got a moment ... I was thinking of doing some more along these lines and I'd love to know whether there's enough interest out there?


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